


Whatever You Need

by Wolfling



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Stilinski Family Feels, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfling/pseuds/Wolfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So yeah, there were the expected nightmares, but it was slowly getting better. Eventually -- soon he hoped -- he'd be able to stomach the idea of sleeping alone in his own bed again because as much as it helped, he really was way too old to be sleeping with his dad. </p><p>He tried to say as much a few times, to apologize for needing this because it wasn't fair to his dad either, having his teenaged son stealing half his bed and interrupting his rest with his nightly trauma. But Dad shut him down every time with a firm shoulder clasp and a, "You're my kid. Whatever you need for as long as you need. Okay?"</p><p>Stiles would nod and mutter, "Okay," in reply and then vow to work even harder to get to the point where he didn't need this. His dad deserved his space after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever You Need

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to a prompt I got on tumblr, asking for more Stilinski family feels, specifically asking for Stiles having a nightmare and going to his dad's room. Um, well they are in the Sheriff's room and there is a nightmare, but the details are different. But at least there's very much Stilinski family feels?
> 
> This could also be read as a sorta sequel to [Sound of Home](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1232317) but should stand on its own just fine.

Stiles expected nightmares.

His life had been a living breathing waking nightmare for the last month, trapped screaming within his own mind while _something_ used his body to do unspeakably horrible, evil things. So now that he had miraculously come out the other side mind and body intact if a little battered, he knew that his subconscious was going to have to process everything. And that was going to mean dreams where he relived all the badness, or the more horrible dreams where he lived the badness that hadn't happened. He knew he had more than a few nights ahead of him when he was going to wake up to the sound of his own screaming ringing in his ears. He accepted this was going to happen.

It wasn't like it was something he was _okay_ with, or wanted. But given what he'd been through it was... acceptable. If some part of him thought of nightmares as penance, he didn't actually have to tell anyone. He just had to put his head down and endure what he had to. Like Morell once told him (back when her advice did not include threats to kill him) if you were going through hell, you just had to keep going. And Stiles was getting to be a champion at keeping going. At least now hell went away when he woke up.

That didn't mean he was so sanguine about nightmares that he didn't do what he could to avoid or lessen them. Under other circumstances that would probably include trying to avoid sleep altogether, but insomnia had been so much of a weapon in the battle for control between himself and the nogitsune that trying to stay awake now when he was tired felt somehow like a step back in the recovery process. 

Besides he wasn't just tired, he was _exhausted_. Even if he had wanted to avoid falling asleep, he didn't think he'd be able to, not for long and not without giving himself actual physical consequences that were for real and not just the result of nogitsune possession this time. 

So Stiles didn't avoid sleep to avoid the nightmares. He just did what he could to make the circumstances of falling asleep as full of safety and comfort as he could. And if that meant he was reverting to a clingy nine year old and bunking in with his father, well no one had to know but him and his dad.

He almost couldn't believe how good his dad had been through this whole ordeal. Or, well he _could_ , it was his _dad_ after all, and he'd already known that his dad would move heaven and earth to keep him safe. But there was knowing and then there was _knowing_ and Stiles had to admit to always harbouring this small secret fear that he'd finally do something that would be horrible enough to make his dad give up on him. If nothing else, this had given him so much evidence of how that would never ever happen that he was half sure that the knowledge was carved into his very bones now.

It was certainly imprinted on his heart.

It had made it easier to ask that first night, and he didn't even need to ask on the nights after that, just show up in his dad's room with his pillow ready for bed. The fact that they didn't talk about it helped too because most nights that would have taken more emotional energy than Stiles had and his dad seemed to understand that.

So he went and slept with his dad and it wasn't a big deal and it helped. 

He did still have nightmares like he'd known he would, but he'd yet to wake up screaming because his dad would wake him up before it got to that point. And it was a hell of a lot easier to calm down and actually try and go back to sleep when he avoided the panicked screaming thing.

So yeah, there were the expected nightmares, but it was slowly getting better. Eventually -- soon he hoped -- he'd be able to stomach the idea of sleeping alone in his own bed again because as much as it helped, he really was way too old to be sleeping with his dad. 

He tried to say as much a few times, to apologize for needing this because it wasn't fair to his dad either, having his teenaged son stealing half his bed and interrupting his rest with his nightly trauma. But Dad shut him down every time with a firm shoulder clasp and a, "You're my kid. Whatever you need for as long as you need. Okay?"

Stiles would nod and mutter, "Okay," in reply and then vow to work even harder to get to the point where he didn't need this. His dad deserved his space after all.

At least that's what he thought until one night when Stiles' dreams had for once not been too bad -- surreal and maybe a little uncomfortable, but more on the level of showing up for school in your underwear and less torture and kill all your friends. 

So he wasn't sure at first what had woke him up. Something had though, he was sure, because one minute he was asleep mid-dream and the next... he wasn't. He lay still, eyes straining to make out his surroundings in the semi-gloom of the darkened room, holding his breath and listening as hard as he could. 

For a long moment there was nothing and then he heard it -- a soft choked off sound, like someone was trying to hold back a whimper of pain. It took Stiles the space of several more heartbeats for him to realize that the sound was coming from his _dad_.

Immediately Stiles sat up and reached for him. Dad flinched when Stiles touched his shoulder and Stiles had to fight the urge to do the same. "Hey," he said, trying to make his voice sound calming though he couldn't keep it from catching just a little. "Dad."

Dad's eyes flew open and he lay still, staring at the ceiling for a moment before catching his breath and looking around wildly. When his eyes landed on Stiles all the tension visibly went out of him and he closed his eyes and pressed a shaking hand over them. "Damn."

Stiles knew what the aftermath of a nightmare looked like, knew it intimately from the inside. "Bad dream?" 

Dad gave a choked sounding laugh. "You could call it that, yeah." He sat up and reached for the bedside lamp and Stiles could see his hand was _still_ shaking.

"Hey," he said, instinctively going for what he knew helped him the most and wrapping his dad in a super tight hug. "It's okay."

Dad gave another choked off laugh and clutched at Stiles even tighter. "That's usually my line."

"Yeah, well..." He tried to shrug but really couldn't with how hard Dad was holding him. "I only steal from the best."

When Dad still didn't let him go, he began to get an inkling that his presence was a little more specific comfort than he'd first thought. 

"It was about me, wasn't it?" he asked, feeling his stomach sink at the idea. Dealing with his own nightmares he could handle; the idea that he had given his dad nightmares he wasn't so sure about.

"The clinging gave it away, huh?" Dad asked, but the joking tone did nothing to stall the flood of guilt Stiles was feeling at this information.

"Sorry," he muttered. He wanted to pull back, but he couldn't, not with the way his dad was very obviously taking comfort in his presence. That he even had that inclination probably made him an even worse son.

Dad pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "Hey, none of that," he said firmly. "My bad dreams are _not_ your fault."

"Pretty sure with everything I've put you through a compelling case could be made that they are," Stiles argued stubbornly.

"Not your fault," Dad repeated. 

"But-"

"No. Stiles, you went -- were put through -- _hell_. I'm your father, you're the most important thing in the world to me. Seeing you go through that, knowing how close I came to losing you, damn right that's going to give me nightmares. There's only two ways you can actually make that your fault. Did you ask to get possessed by a nogitsune?"

"No!" Stiles replied, a little louder than he intended. 

"Course not, you're far too smart for that. So we'll cross that off the list. Secondly, do you think that me loving you is something you should apologize for?"

"N-no," he answered, more hesitantly this time because honestly there were plenty of times he felt like he should apologize for being a terrible son that had nothing to do with him being possessed. "I- I mean I know I make it difficult sometimes..."

"Stiles." Dad's hands came up to cup his face, forcing him to make eye contact. "There's nothing that you've done or could do that would make loving you anything but the easiest thing I've ever done. Nothing can change that. Okay?"

God. He'd known that, he had. Thought he'd known that down to his bones and the bottom of his heart. But hearing his dad _say_ it... 

Well, that was a whole new level of knowing.

Dad was still obviously waiting for an answer, so Stiles nodded, wide eyed.

Dad nodded back and then reeled him in for another hug; Stiles sighed and hugged him back. "I totally suck at this comfort after nightmare thing," he observed.

"Oh, I don't know," Dad said. "You're not doing too bad."

Stiles frowned. "Really? Okay, I got the initial hug it out bit right, but after that... I just ended up making you comfort _me_. Pretty sure that loses me mucho comforting points."

"Stiles." Dad pulled back again to look at him. "Do you want to know what my nightmares are about?"

He didn't miss the plural on nightmares there and it made him want to wince. "If you want to tell me," he replied cautiously. This was one time when Stiles wasn't going to push for information his dad didn't want to give him.

"They're about seeing you hurt or in danger and not being able to save you. Not being able to help."

Stiles felt like flinching but controlled the urge and bit back on the desire to apologize again. Dad was telling him this for a reason and... He blinked. _Oh._ "You're not able to help in your dreams so when you wake up and you _are_ able to help me..."

Dad gave him a quick approving grin, probably for figuring it out so quickly. "It makes things better, yes."

"So you're saying," Stiles began slowly, "that the way I can help you is let you help me?" Now that he thought about it, he remembered reading somewhere that ' _let me help_ ' was just another way of saying _'I love you_ ' so maybe that wasn't too surprising.

Dad nodded. "When you need it. Otherwise, just be Stiles -- the brilliant, aggravating, funny, hyperactive, brave, nosey, loving, exasperating kid that you are. That helps too."

Stiles nodded slowly, warmth suffusing him at Dad's description of him. "I can do that."

"Then you'll get all the comforting points," Dad told him with a hint of a smile. "You ready to go back to sleep?"

"Sure, if you are," Stiles said, settling back down on his side of the bed as his dad turned off the light.

He kept turning the conversation over in his mind however and after a moment's silence said, "Wait. So when you say whatever I need for as long as I need... that's because that's what you need?"

"That's pretty much the definition of being a parent, kid," Dad told him.

"So I'm really not cramping your style bunking in here with you instead of sleeping in my own bed?" 

"I'm flattered that you think I have a style to cramp," Dad said dryly. "And no, you're really not. I know you'll go back to your own room when you're ready. To be honest, having you sleep here is good for me too."

Stiles nodded in the darkness. "Because it's helping me."

"Yeah. But not just that."

Stiles turned that over in his mind for a bit, treating the confession with the care it deserved. Then, on impulse, he scooted over and snuggled close to his dad like he used to do when he was little. He heard Dad's breath catch on a surprised inhale, then his arms were wrapping around Stiles just like Stiles remembered. 

"Whatever you need Dad, for as long as you need," Stiles said, smiling against his dad's shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://fwolfling.tumblr.com/)


End file.
